


A visit to the beach

by Windfighter



Series: Tony-centric whumptobers [8]
Category: Marvel, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Gen, Hurt Tony, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 04:39:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18514081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windfighter/pseuds/Windfighter
Summary: A battle on the sea leaves Tony stranded on an island. His armor and body is broken but he has to figure out a way out of there.





	A visit to the beach

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Stranded
> 
> Poor Tony, I will never let him rest.

Maybe flying hadn't been the smartest move, but he was Iron Man. Flying was what he did. And even if it wasn't the smartest move, maybe it hadn't been a bad move either. Because if he hadn't been flying, if he had been on the ship when they fired the bazooka at him, it would have taken out the whole team. He had blacked out from the impact, woken up flying – no, falling – his thrusters not working and he was unable to slow his descent.

”Cap?” he tried as he fell, his voice barely above a whisper.

The com crackled and he didn't get an answer. He tried Jarvis, but the suit was dead. He slammed into the ground, cried out in pain as his body rattled around in the armor. He blacked out again and the next time he opened his eyes the sun was a lot lower. His whole body ached and the suit still wasn't working. He tried restarting it, but it didn't respond.

”Eject”, he slurred.

He cursed himself. Of course verbal commands wouldn't work with the interface down. Moving his hands was painful, but he found the manual eject button and the suit opened up, fell apart around him. He gasped as fresh air rushed in over him, replacing the stale air that had been in the armor. He coughed, clenched his eyes shut as pain shot up in his head. Breathing sent pain through his chest. Broken robs, he concluded. He couldn't say how many. He tried taking stock of his injuries, but he couldn't, his head was swimming. Concussion as well. He groaned.

The water was rising, he felt it climbing over his feet. He needed to move away before he got a panic attack so he tried to sit up. It took four tries, his left arm hurt with every movement, his right wrist ached as well.

”Shit.”

Blackness danced infront of his eyes and he wanted to lie back down. It cleared up after a couple of minutes and he raised his right hand infront of his face. There was swelling around the wrist and he tried to move it, moved his fingers. He winced at the slight pain it gave him. Sprained. Could be worse. The sun was starting to set and he turned to check his left arm. Bone was sticking out through the skin, his forearm was covered in blood and the whole thing was swelling pretty bad already. Nausea threatened him and he closed his eyes, swallowed three times to keep it down.

The water reached his knees. He had to move, had to go farther inlands, but he knew he wouldn't be able to move from the spot. He carefully placed his broken arm over his thigh, let his eyes trace across the sky. No sign of the quintjet. Maybe they were still fighting on the boat, maybe they were looking for him on another of the many islands, maybe they thought him dead and lost in battle. He stared at his legs, hidden beneath the now somewhat red water. He took a breath before trying to move his legs.

He cursed, loudly. A huge stab of pain shot through his leg, caused his headache to spike and he clenched his teeth, breathed through them. Great, his leg was broken as well. There was definately no way for him to move from the spot or get himself off the island. He needed to figure out a way to alert the others of where he was. He rummaged through the wreckage with his right hand, careful not to injure it further. He had lived through worse pains, this was nothing, he wasn't stuck in a cave with a battery connected to his chest while people did their best to drown him. His breathing got shallower, quicker, and his ribs felt like they were cutting through his lungs.

His fingers found the small toolbox he always carried with him for impromptu repairs and his breathing returned to normal. He placed the toolbox in his lap, careful not to jolt the broken arm. He dragged the gauntlet to his lap as well, clenched his teeth against the pain that rose in his wrist when he moved it. He took several deep breaths, as deep as he could muster, to gather himself and will the nausea and darkness away.

Water reached halfway up his thighs. His body was shivering, each shiver sending a fresh stab of pain through his body. Night had fallen and the only light was the dim flickering of his arc reactor. He had a screwdriver stuck into the gauntlet, constantly moved his fingers around to find loose wires and anything that could help him fix it.He needed to fix it, needed to get some way to alert the others, but he got slower and slower, almost felt like he had been drugged but no, it was just exhaustion and pain and blood loss and cold catching up to him. He might survive another day on the island, but he would prefer to be saved while he was still conscious.

He took the com out of his ear after it had given him his fifth shock. He stared at it in the arc reactor's light. The light flickered again. He needed to repair it, but he couldn't right now. Maybe 12 hours before it died, 18 if he was lucky. He blinked, stared at the small object between his fingers. Completely trashed , that too. How had a tiny bazooka warhead to the chest caused so much damage? He dropped the com when it shocked his fingers and went back to working on the gauntlet.

He started drifting off after a few hours. Just seconds at first, then minutes. He woke up confused and disoriented and it took him up to five minutes before his brain caught up and reminded him about what he was doing. Somehow he managed to stay sitting and he thanked his lucky star for that. Work progressed, albeit painfully slow. Breathing was getting harder, keeping his eyes open was a struggle, but he knew he couldn't allow himself to drift off completely. The reactor flickered worse. 6 hours left.

The repulsor on the gauntlet flickered. He slipped into darkness again. It lasted longer this time, not helped by the part of him that feared they had stopped looking for him. He pushed himself awake when his body started slipping down, pain rushing through his body and making him feel like he was in Afghanistan again. 5 hours. He had slept for too long and he really needed a new arc reactor now. He pushed the screwdriver around, tightened some screws, pushed some cables into place. His wrist was so very painful and blacked out again.

The gauntlet whirred to life and forced him back to consciousness. He wasn't sure how much power was in it, needed to decide on the best way to use it. There was a group of trees next to him and he lowered the power before shooting a blast towards them. The grass caught fire, then the trunks. Water had disappeared from his legs again, left his wet pants exposed to the cold air and increased his shivering. His body was so painful, the gauntlet heavy on his sprained wrist. He'd be benched for quite a while after this if they found him.

He shook his head to clear it. There was still power left in the gauntlet. The fire was a good signal, but it couldd be mistaken as a natural occurance. He should send another signal, so they knew for sure it was from him. He cranked the power all the way up, lifted his hand to the sky. His body was shaking from the effort.

One blast, then it died. Tony was pushed to the ground, cried out in pain. 4 hours left. The pain, cold, blood loss and exhaustion caught up to him and he blacked out for the last time.

 


End file.
